Chapter Three - The Haunt
Not long after that first hum did I start making my place known in the line. Fint tried to keep putting socks in me, but my socks got him harder and when his hands were hurting he didn’t want to put any more socks in me because he knew I’d get him good, and sometimes even right across the face. The liners started making way on account of me putting in so many socks, which they knew made me good and rich. I talked to Kraspus often, and I wanted to pass him in the line, but his screams were too loud and his socks too big, and he talked so confident like that I could tell he was telling facts. We were getting closer to the Tower, which meant that the Mister still hadn’t come across anyone so good that they didn’t get to fall. But Kraspus said that would be him. Kraspus knew he was better than the others, and he said by the time he made it to the Tower he’d be so darned good the Mister might as well give him his own job right then and there. His eyes burned when he said that, and his lip sort of quivered, like a madman, I suppose, but he must have known what I was thinking, because he put a couple of socks in me and said some strange letters:
“What, simpleton, you think I’ve mercury under this hat? My mind is as well as my body, I assure you. It’s a fine line, you know. Stay on the safe side and you just blend in. Cross a little too far and the void may prohibit your return.”
I wasn’t sure what the planets had to do with anything, but his words made me feel sort of small and ordinary, and I hated it. But his socks were too big for me to put some in him.
Now since the line overlooked the big forest where I came from, a few of the really special folks here - fellows even higher up than Kraspus - liked to go haunting for the animals in the woods. There was a French Fly, and she was a big queen birdy thing, and she knew how to read and always carried her book in her hand, and she could even read when it was dark on account of the torch in her other hand. There were big walking things called Onfirenmints that must have hit four hundred feets in the sky, with fat stomachs that went from green and blue on the top to red and brown on the bottom, and flimsy little legs that I could hardly see because they were so thin. And there was a third animal too, and it was mysterious, and I couldn’t tell much what it was, but it was hairy, and looked something like a strange, cosmic sort of man. I thought that might be a Lah, but I didn’t get to ask, because the rich men got out their shotguns and started snarling and screaming, almost like as if there was a man falling from the Tower.
One of those men, Kraspus told me, was named Raspintillius Quintindillium. He had sharp teeth, and fat pockets, and really fancy, really heavy metal shoes, and a fancy gadget so that he could pick up his feet on account of the really heavy shoes, and an expensive hovercraft that held the special gadget, and a techy remote control to pilot the hovercraft, and an elegant ivory case to hold the remote. Raspintillius choked on his throat and spit as he growled. He chewed on his lessers and put socks all over the place, and my ears were about to burst any time I got near he was shouting so much. His eyes were chipped stone, and I reckon there wasn't one tear in there, they were so dry. He looked mighty fancy, and I thought I might as well bow down and kiss his feet he was so rich and proper looking.
The pretty little Lah scampered around at the loud sounds of the men screaming and shooting, but it was stupid and hadn’t developed any real useful camouflage, so the men knew where it was. Raspintillius swung his golden shotgun over his shoulder and smirked with a wild savagery. His eyes glowed; he had it now. The kill would be his. But the men nearby edged towards the Lah too, and he would have none of this sort of competition. He was the alpha of the pack, and he wasn’t ready to bequeath his position to no challengers. Raspintillius stretched his fangs and sunk them real firm like in the neck of his inferiors. Blood pouring like a crimson fountain down his apeish face, he smashed the butt of his gun into some moron’s mushy little nose, and I just about fainted he looked so elegant and elite. He cackled and farted as his bullet melted the Lah’s forehead, and the cute little creature sat there, not to be eaten, but to be laughed at, and the whole scene was a little sickening in my stomach, but really mighty beautiful, and fancy, too. Haunting sure was proper.
Then the French Fly flied over me and Kraspus, and his eyes burned just like Raspintillius, and I knew he was about to haunt it. But I saw how majestic Raspintillius had looked standing over the dead Lah, and I wanted that, and I wanted to move up in the line. And Kraspus, well his name already meant something. My name was just a bunch of letters, which I didn’t care much for anyways. And he might have been chosen by the Mister, and then I wouldn’t be. Raspintillius saw my eyes, and I reckon he could tell that I was scared, but he curled his brow, and he cracked open a bloody smile, and tossed me his gun. And I sunk a bullet into Kraspus, and then one into the French Fly, and that was that. And everything was ringing, and I must have seemed pretty fancy looking because everyone backed up away from me and a few people moved behind me in the line. Now I was behind Raspintillius in the line, and I deserved to be. Now my name meant something. And from then on, Sqiq Twazpup was dead, and Sqiquo Twasospyum emerged.
Not long after that first hum did I start making my place known in the line. Fint tried to keep putting socks in me, but my socks got him harder and when his hands were hurting he didn’t want to put any more socks in me because he knew I’d get him good, and sometimes even right across the face. The liners started making way on account of me putting in so many socks, which they knew made me good and rich. I talked to Kraspus often, and I wanted to pass him in the line, but his screams were too loud and his socks too big, and he talked so confident like that I could tell he was telling facts. We were getting closer to the Tower, which meant that the Mister still hadn’t come across anyone so good that they didn’t get to fall. But Kraspus said that would be him. Kraspus knew he was better than the others, and he said by the time he made it to the Tower he’d be so darned good the Mister might as well give him his own job right then and there. His eyes burned when he said that, and his lip sort of quivered, like a madman, I suppose, but he must have known what I was thinking, because he put a couple of socks in me and said some strange letters:
“What, simpleton, you think I’ve mercury under this hat? My mind is as well as my body, I assure you. It’s a fine line, you know. Stay on the safe side and you just blend in. Cross a little too far and the void may prohibit your return.”
I wasn’t sure what the planets had to do with anything, but his words made me feel sort of small and ordinary, and I hated it. But his socks were too big for me to put some in him.
Now since the line overlooked the big forest where I came from, a few of the really special folks here - fellows even higher up than Kraspus - liked to go haunting for the animals in the woods. There was a French Fly, and she was a big queen birdy thing, and she knew how to read and always carried her book in her hand, and she could even read when it was dark on account of the torch in her other hand. There were big walking things called Onfirenmints that must have hit four hundred feets in the sky, with fat stomachs that went from green and blue on the top to red and brown on the bottom, and flimsy little legs that I could hardly see because they were so thin. And there was a third animal too, and it was mysterious, and I couldn’t tell much what it was, but it was hairy, and looked something like a strange, cosmic sort of man. I thought that might be a Lah, but I didn’t get to ask, because the rich men got out their shotguns and started snarling and screaming, almost like as if there was a man falling from the Tower.
One of those men, Kraspus told me, was named Raspintillius Quintindillium. He had sharp teeth, and fat pockets, and really fancy, really heavy metal shoes, and a fancy gadget so that he could pick up his feet on account of the really heavy shoes, and an expensive hovercraft that held the special gadget, and a techy remote control to pilot the hovercraft, and an elegant ivory case to hold the remote. Raspintillius choked on his throat and spit as he growled. He chewed on his lessers and put socks all over the place, and my ears were about to burst any time I got near he was shouting so much. His eyes were chipped stone, and I reckon there wasn't one tear in there, they were so dry. He looked mighty fancy, and I thought I might as well bow down and kiss his feet he was so rich and proper looking.
The pretty little Lah scampered around at the loud sounds of the men screaming and shooting, but it was stupid and hadn’t developed any real useful camouflage, so the men knew where it was. Raspintillius swung his golden shotgun over his shoulder and smirked with a wild savagery. His eyes glowed; he had it now. The kill would be his. But the men nearby edged towards the Lah too, and he would have none of this sort of competition. He was the alpha of the pack, and he wasn’t ready to bequeath his position to no challengers. Raspintillius stretched his fangs and sunk them real firm like in the neck of his inferiors. Blood pouring like a crimson fountain down his apeish face, he smashed the butt of his gun into some moron’s mushy little nose, and I just about fainted he looked so elegant and elite. He cackled and farted as his bullet melted the Lah’s forehead, and the cute little creature sat there, not to be eaten, but to be laughed at, and the whole scene was a little sickening in my stomach, but really mighty beautiful, and fancy, too. Haunting sure was proper.
Then the French Fly flied over me and Kraspus, and his eyes burned just like Raspintillius, and I knew he was about to haunt it. But I saw how majestic Raspintillius had looked standing over the dead Lah, and I wanted that, and I wanted to move up in the line. And Kraspus, well his name already meant something. My name was just a bunch of letters, which I didn’t care much for anyways. And he might have been chosen by the Mister, and then I wouldn’t be. Raspintillius saw my eyes, and I reckon he could tell that I was scared, but he curled his brow, and he cracked open a bloody smile, and tossed me his gun. And I sunk a bullet into Kraspus, and then one into the French Fly, and that was that. And everything was ringing, and I must have seemed pretty fancy looking because everyone backed up away from me and a few people moved behind me in the line. Now I was behind Raspintillius in the line, and I deserved to be. Now my name meant something. And from then on, Sqiq Twazpup was dead, and Sqiquo Twasospyum emerged.